Senile
by Shostakovich
Summary: A boy loses his memory and while recovering, becomes obsessed with the Phantom. Then, he starts becoming the Phantom.
1. Chapter 1

Ahuh ahuhf pshs.

His hands were on his knees, his breathing coming raggedly through his teeth and lips. A glance over his shoulder made him run again, as fast as his weary legs could carry him. He could hardly see for the sweat in his eyes, despite the cold bite of the air. He was running, running...

---

She lay on her bed, playing telephone tag with her friend, who never seemed to be home. She groaned when her friend's parents said her friend wasn't home (for the fourth time that evening) and made vows to have her be called back a-sap. Resigned, she leaned over to hang the phone up on her dresser.

Sighing, she stretched and stood, meandering over to her window. Her third-story bedroom offered quite a view of the woods behind the house, which was at the end of a cul-de-sac where the woods curled around them protectively.

But the protectiveness disappeared when a shot rang out, and she screamed, whitening, as a motion-sensored light on her back porch showed a boy with blood running down his face.

She raced to her phone just as it rang.

---

"He may have lost his memory, miss." The Orderly looked at her as she stood at the bedside of the boy she'd rescued, the boy she'd saved. He had not awoken yet, but the doctors had hopes: it had only been some seven hours since he'd been shot in the head.

The girl and boy were both white; the former from fear, the latter from his injury. The Orderly, a young but tall man, looked between them. "Do you know him from somewhere?"

"No. I don't remember him, and I would if I'd met him," she said, her voice gaining strength as she continued.

The Orderly nodded.

---

He came to life again after another two days, feeling hungover. He kept his eyes shut, feeling that opening them would hurt. He stayed like that, still, silent, hungover. And then he had to open his eyes from curiosity when a shadow blocked the light.

Blinking, he half heard a scream. "He's awake! He's awake!" He groaned at the loudness of it, and felt pulled at from all directions when the Young Nurse entered, bustling in her productiveness.

Tests were run, and he questioned his location. "You're in the hospital, young man. Speaking of which, who might you be?" the Young Nurse asked.

He thought, but he couldn't remember. Frantic, he clawed the sheets holding him down, but the Young Nurse kept him abed. "You're in no state to go about, you've been shot in the head. And if it weren't for this young lady, you'd be long dead."

The original shadow across his bed blushed.

---

The girl's name was Alexandra Saint, but she'd shaken away the formalities and for all of one day insisted on being called Sasha. "I'm going to embrace my Russian heritage," she had said, shy even then.

Confused, he'd replied, "You're going to become a brain surgeon?" Sasha giggled in his single room as the Young Nurse came in with his dinner on a tray followed by the Orderly, who looked crisper than usual.

"Hello," he said. "Miss Saint, your mother is waiting for you downstairs." Alexandra looked plaintively at the Orderly. "But he's just woken up, and I don't want to leave him here all alone."

"That's all very well, Miss Saint, but your mother reminds you that you have a birthday party in a half an hour."

"And yet they could all survive without me, while he couldn't've."

"Your logic is amazing, Miss Saint, but very trying on your mother's nerves, I am sure. Say goodbye now, and then I will take you downstairs." Alexandra sighed, and turned to the boy.

"But I don't know what to call him, Orderly." She turned on him as he lay there, feeling very exposed. "What do I call you?"

He frowned. "I can't remember, can I? But you can just, say goodbye. You know."

"Okay. Goodbye then." Alexandra took his hand and shook it; he was glad he had some control over that aspect of his dignity, at least. He was very surprised, but not unpleased, when she bent to peck him on the cheek. Slightly pink, she rose and left with the Orderly, looking back to wave.

The Young Nurse looked after the Orderly with softer eyes than usual, and he looked up at her. "Do you like him, Miss Nurse?" The Young Nurse started, but laughed at him.

"I certainly hope not, young man. I'm engaged, you see, to an excellent man."

"Oh." The young man in the bed thought about excellent men, but could not remember any.

---

"Will you come back tomorrow, Miss Saint?" the Orderly asked. Miss Saint shrugged nonchalantly.

"If my mother lets me, of course. But school starts soon, and I have assignments to do."

"You could bring them here, maybe the work will help jog his memory." Alexandra thought about that, and nodded. "Is your mother uninterested in the case?"

"Case? He's not crazy."

"But he was shot on your property, Miss Saint. Clearly there will be some police involvement, if there is not already."

"Oh, there is." She pressed the down button on the elevator and continued. "They spoke to us very soon after I called them, but all of us were very soon taken off the suspects list. It was very clear he was shot while still in the forest, and we were all indoors."

The Orderly followed this and watched her hair in the fluorescent light as she continued until the door opened.

---

He awoke, restless, after a blank sleep and lifted a hand to his head, feeling heavy. The TV on the opposite all showed a mixed forecast for the week, and his eyes fell to his swinging eating tray. Noticing a book there, he took it and read its covers before engulfing himself in the unfamiliar words.

The Phantom of the Opera

_by Gaston Leroux_

_Chapter I. Is it the Ghost?_

_It was the evening..._


	2. Chapter 2

When the Young Nurse came in, he remembered somewhere that he was supposed to eat, but nothing would keep him from the world that unfolded in Leroux's words.

The Young Nurse snatched the book from his hands, and he protested. She made him eat, but the food sat in his throat. He was far too hurried to swallow properly- the Opera Ghost was waiting. Waiting for him.

And somewhere, he knew that he wanted to make someone wait for him.

---

Alexandrine Saint had been joyous at the party, happy to revel in the attentions of her friends, and give attentions to something other than an unconscious form in a hospital bed. Something alive, tangible, was nice to behold, after all those hours surrounded by white. The colors bit at her senses, and she felt a little more useful in the sun.

Sasha was curled up on a comfortable couch inside, out of the sun, with her friend when the phone rang, and her friend's mother called out that it was for her.

Sasha stood, stretched, and slid on her socks to the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello, Alex, darling," her mother said. "I just wanted to let you know I have to go to the hospital about my ear--" Mrs. Saint had an infection that was slowly causing her to go deaf in one ear-- "and that I won't be home for another few hours."

"I knew that, Mother..."

"I left the door in the garage unlocked for you, you do remember the code?"

"Of course I do, Mum. Could I come with you to the hospital?"

A pause.

"Why ever would you want to do such a thing? Oh, I know. You would like to visit the boy who you saved?"

Sasha couldn't quite tell if her mother was being sarcastic or not, but she gave her mother the benefit of the doubt. "Yes, mother, I left him a book and a DVD and I want to know if he's enjoying them."

"Yours, or ours?"

"Mine! I wouldn't've ever lent out our stuff without asking you first; you should trust me more."

"Of course, dear. I should. If you are so hellbent on going, pardon my French, Alex, of course I'll take you. I just need to do my teeth and the like, and then I'll pick you up straightaway. Thank Helen--" Sasha's friend's mother-- "for me. See you soon."

"Bye, Mom. Love you."

"Love you too." Mrs. Saint hung up, and Sasha ran to tell her friend she was leaving.

---

His face brightened when the Orderly brought Sasha Saint into his room, and he tore his eyes from the TV screen. She breezed her way in, fitting herself comfortably into the chair by his bed.

"Hello," he said. "I picked out what you can call me."

"Have you? Why?" Sasha frowned. The Orderly quickly left, glancing back at their forms when he closed the door slightly.

The young man was earnest. "Well, I want to think of myself as a name, not a patient in a room. And I got so inspired-"

"Oh, did you like what I left?" she interrupted.

"I thought you'd left it. I'm in awe of it, it's amazing. Brilliant. Really brilliant."

"And do you like the whole concept, with the story? I know my dad thought the story was a little weak in the movie-"

"Oh, no, it's brilliant," he insisted. "The way Erik- the Phantom- is so moved by Christine's music, it's eery. And he had so little human experience, he thought he loved her, when he only loved her music."

"Is that what you think?"

"Oh, yes. If I were the Phantom, I would have been much more in love with Christine."

"Surely you would never be so cruel as he can be!" Sasha looked taken aback. "He murders people, you forget."

"No, I don't forget; he's just very romantic, in a very ignorant way. His romance takes him out of common sense-"

"Which is far from common to begin with. I see what you're saying." Sasha eyed him. "And what was it that you wanted to be called? Not 'the Phantom', perhaps?" she joked, lamely.

"No, but close." He smiled. "Erik."

---

The Young Nurse looked at Miss Saint with raised eyebrows. "He can't really be serious."

"Oh, but he can, Miss Nurse." Sasha was very soft, and she peered up at the Young Nurse. "He's very serious, and he'll do it no matter what other people say."

"And will you help him recreate himself, Miss Saint?"

"He asked me to help him, so I shall. I can't see what harm it will do."

The Young Nurse groaned, annoyed. "But that's just where you're wrong! When his relations find him so utterly changed, they will be so frightened of him. Losing someone and then finding them utterly changed is a very frightening experience, and having them create a new life that they aren't a part of makes it harder." She ran a hand through her hair. "It's so very hard, to become attached to something so foreign, when it used to be familiar. Miss Saint, you really haven't lived long enough to know the ways of the mind."

"Perhaps not, Miss Nurse." Sasha looked at her toes. "But if Erik wants it, who am I to deny him?"

"He will listen to you, and you can change his mind. Don't let him bring so much pain to those who brought him up-"

"And have failed to look hard enough for him to find him so easily here. I'm not important in the scheme of things."

"But you saved him! You kept him from the dead!"

"No, it was you and your colleagues who saved him. I only helped you. And he pays back the favor by letting me help him recover."

"He will forget you once he is better."

Sasha shrugged. "If I can help him now, then so be it."


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time, the Orderly found himself unable to immediately lead Alexandra into the boy's room. She questioned him, and he hesitated.

"Well, I suppose I can tell you. It's not confidential, and both the boy- I mean, Erik and I trust you." Alexandra cocked her head curiously. "Two persons came just twenty minutes ago. We believe them to be his aunt and uncle. They applied for a DNA test, and have been proven to be close relations of him. I believe their name was Prospect, Mr. and Mrs. Prospect. They said they had no children and had always been excessively fond of their nephew. They're a little older. Sixty, sixty-five. Around there."

"I see." Alexandra seemed distant, and not as happy as the Orderly would have thought. Noting his frown, Alexandra smiled a little. "Oh, no, don't think I'm unhappy. It only means he will go with them, won't he? And he'll forget about me. I don't mind, though."

"However is that possible? You've befriended him." The Orderly was genuinely bemused.

"He told me he pictured me as his guardian angel. And people forget we're there."

"Do you believe that you are his guardian angel?"

Alexandra was silent for a moment. "Yes, I do. Call me foolish, but I think God wanted me to watch over him, until someone else could do it. He was just so very hopeless while he was in his sleeping-state, and I feel like maybe I helped him, in some small way."

"I know you did, Alexandra."

The Orderly's words were very soft, and Alexandra looked at him, her eyes bright. "Thank you, Orderly. For saying that. It makes me feel like it's true."

"It is."

The Orderly barely could react when she smiled at him. His mouth had trouble forming the familiar shape; it wanted to form something less innocent, less-

"Miss Saint, is it?"

Alexandra gave a little jump, but spun to face two older people- middle aged, she guessed. "Yes? I mean, yes, I am she." She swallowed. The persons were kindly looking, and adept. She presumed they were the Prospects who were going to take Erik away.

The man had spoken, and continued. "I am George Prospect, and this is my wife, Elisabeth. Alexander is our nephew."

"Alexander? Who is Alexander?"

"Oh my, yes, it's a funny coincidence," said Mrs. Prospect. "Your name being Alexandra, and him being Alexander. Alexander is the boy you helped save."

"Erik?" Alexandra registered the information rather distantly, not noticing the slip of her name. _His name is Erik, though.._.

"Oh, dear. No, his name is indeed Alexander. It's after his father." Mrs. Prospect looked at Alexandra in a worried fashion. "Alexandra, are you all right? I understand he did wish to be called Erik, but of course that was before we found him."

"He did," the Orderly came in quickly. "But we are all ready to accept that he will fall into the mold of his old life. We are all very happy for him, and you."

"Why?" She didn't feel awkward when they all stared at her. Her soft question fell flat, but Mr. Prospect gave an almost forced chuckle.

"We are his closest relatives, Miss Saint, and we are going to be his guardians. We are so thankful to you for helping him survive during his time here."

Alexandra stood still as he continued, and looked past him at the door to Erik's room. The Young Nurse stood there, holding a clipboard in her hand, her eyes locked knowingly on Alexandra's.

---

"It's absurd," George Prospect was saying to his wife, "that she should feel so strongly about us taking him in." Elisabeth sighed as her husband continued complaining about the small wisp of a thing that had helped save their nephew. "-perfectly indecent, the way that Orderly hangs over her-"

At that, Elisabeth had to speak up. "That's nothing to do with her, dear, if that young man has a few private problems. But yes, it is indecent." He stopped bristling at her interruption, and was silent for a few moments. Elisabeth grabbed at the chance to speak again. "She cares about Alexander, even if she seems rather unimportant. He did bring some adventure into her life."

George sputtered indignantly. "Adventure! Alexander nearly dead, and she's excited for adventure!"

"My dear, that's not exactly what I meant. I meant that perhaps she felt connected with his helplessness. She seems very hopeless, George. All eyes and ears and no sense at all."

"Quite right, quite right. And all this 'Erik' nonsense, as well!"

"He must have been very desperate for an identity. But it seems a strange name for someone to choose. No poetry to it at all."

"Desperate, indeed. That little thing must have given it to him, and he must've been very reluctant to agree." Mr. Prospect harrumphed.

"He is too strong in his character to be so easily persuaded. You remember how stubborn he was when he was a little boy! So very stubborn, just like his mother was. He'd take nothing but the best. Which is just what he deserves, George," she added, sternly. "It is up to us, now, to give it to him."

"Yes, it is."

George touched his wife's cheek, and soon forgot all about Alexander and Erik and Alexandra and the Orderly as sleep consumed him.

---

The Young Nurse watched the Orderly with some worry. He had grown nervous of late, with his spells of forgetfulness. The Young Nurse knew he faced dilemmas; no man with pride let simple problems affect his work. And the Orderly certainly had enough pride to last anyone a lifetime. Nothing was too difficult; nothing was too complex for him. But lately, things that he once did with ease weren't perfect anymore, and things that had been simple now confused him. Something was wrong, and the Young Nurse wanted to know what.

She looked at him, bent over paperwork, out of the corner of her eye. "Orderly?" she said, tentative. He looked up at her with little emotion. The Orderly blinked then, as if out of a trance.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You seem rather, eh, distracted lately. I was wondering if there's anything I can do." The Young Nurse gave herself a point at her easy speech.

"Anything you can do, eh?" The Orderly gave her a look that made her give him a point. Tied, one-one. "Well, can you make me lose about twelve years?"

"Sorry, no." Two-one, Nurse.

"Then you can't help, can you."

_Ouch, Orderly. Non-questions don't work in debates, do they?_ The Young Nurse snickered to herself. "Well, then, make sure you keep up on your work. You were about five minutes later than usual with your paperwork yesterday. Mona at the front desk was almost pissed."

"Bully for Mona."

"Not really."

The Orderly snorted, almost amused. "It's too bad you're engaged, I know someone who'd get a real kick out of you."

"I'm perfectly happy with my Michael, thank you." The Young Nurse smiled, though, glad the Orderly appreciated her rather dry (as she thought of it, anyhow) humor.

---

Alexandra sat by Erik's bedside. She did not call him Alexander.

Erik looked over at her, and his eyes peered under her lowered eyelids. "Hey," he said. She looked at him, and gave a small smile. "Don't look so sad. I'll write to you, and you can write to me." He sent her a smile, but she looked stern now.

"No, you won't."

"Yes I will. You saved me, and I owe my life to you."

"I didn't save you, the Young Nurse and the doctors saved you. I only helped a little. I'll miss you, Erik," she suddenly blurted out. Her cheeks went very pink, and she bit her bottom lip. Erik sat up and reached out a hand to her, which she took. He stroked her knuckles with his thumb.

"I'll miss you, too. And I _will_ write, Alex."

"That's your name now," Alexandra said, eyes dampening. "Don't forget you're Erik, too."

Erik, Alexander, squeezed Alexandra's hand. "As long as my little guardian angel remembers me, I'll remember me too."

Alexandra smiled shakily at him. "I couldn't forget you, Erik. Alex." She looked down at their intertwined hands. "It is strange. We're both Alex."

"We're connected," Erik offered.

"Everyone is connected." Alexandra looked back up at him, and he had come closer. He kissed her, and when he pulled back, he pressed his forehead against hers. Alexandra swallowed.

"We _are_ connected," she whispered.

---

"Thank you for everything," George Prospect said to the Orderly. "We owe you and this hospital the life of our nephew."

Elisabeth Prospect smiled also, squeezing Alexander's shoulder. "I can't express my gratitude in enough words."

The Orderly smiled mechanically as he leaned on the front desk. "We save lives," he said. "That's what we do."

The Prospects and Alexander went out the automatic doors, and Mona at the front desk gave a clap of her hands.

"Well, that's one more complicated kid we've had here," she declared. The Orderly looked at her, eyebrows raised. "What?" Mona gave him a smarmy grin. "He was a strange kid."

"Yeah. I guess so."

The Young Nurse wafted in, smiling widely. "Great news, Mr. Orderly. You are being promoted. To a new hospital in the city."

Mona gasped. "You lucky duck!" she cried at the Orderly. "I'd almost kill to get a job in the city! Say, how'd you hear about that?"

"Through the grapevine, of course," the Young Nurse said. "Well, Orderly, what say you?"

"No, I'm satisfied here."

Mona smiled, secretly pleased. The Orderly _was_ awful cute.


End file.
